


the marshall's regret

by foundCarcosa



Category: Dragon Age: Origins, Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 09:20:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1382191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foundCarcosa/pseuds/foundCarcosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He fought to see Sten inducted into the PPDC, but there was much and more he would have fought for, had he the chance.<br/>[ Part of the Anaan Esaam Jaeger AU, a PacRim/DA crossover featuring my favourite OT3. ]</p>
            </blockquote>





	the marshall's regret

He only had one name, and refused to offer another, even when filling out official documents. Red tape billowed around him, greying men in greyer suits patiently and then furiously explaining to him that he was more than that one monosyllabic name, that he _had_ to be, but he stood firm.

He passed all of his examinations. He was a keystone in the Jaeger Academy — not flashy, or eye-catching, but _solid,_ unconsciously giving his fellow trainees strength, unknowingly impressing the officers with his razor-sharp mind and self-disciplined brawn.

The PPDC needed him, whether it knew it or not.

Stacker Pentecost wasn’t going to have him sacked on a _technicality._

People listened to Stacker, and it was a good thing indeed, because for a while he didn’t think he was going to be able to pull it off. Meanwhile, the Wei brothers had proven to be a formidable team together, and China had crafted a jaeger with an extra arm; two trainees with remarkable compatibility had spoken up immediately — “Test Sten with us! We can do it, too! They’ve got Thundercloud, we’ll have… Whirlwind!”

"I suggest you work on that name, son," Stacker responded glibly.

But he wasn’t glib, at all. He had the One-Name Wonder tested alongside the brash, vocal Alistair Theirin and quieter, large-eyed Anansi Surana. Anansi showed a proficiency for plasma cannons and quick thinking under pressure. Alistair was a heavy hitter, bold and thunderous.

Sten was between them always, in all the trials, and they revolved around him, proton and electron to the unshakeable nucleus. He fed them power and was never drained. He gave commands and they were followed before the words could even leave his mouth.

"We’re going to have to build them a jaeger," Tendo commented, and he’d only watched them in one trial.  
Stacker, who’d seen every trial, silently agreed.

The next time someone brought up the one-name issue, Stacker glared him into embarrassed silence.

—

After Sten and his friends — already thought of as full-fledged pilots by the quietly admiring Stacker — left the Academy, their contact was minimised greatly. Stacker had his duties as Marshall; Sten was busy becoming the pilot he likely already was in his mind.

Stacker saw the blueprints for their giant robot, and raised an eyebrow. Tesla cells in the fist that Alistair would command. IB22 Plasmacaster — longer charge time, but Anansi would have plenty of time for that while Alistair distracted a kaiju with his dancing and pummelling. Light-armour legs for all that running, quick Crimson Typhoon-like arms, and a heavily-armoured core — there was a metaphor there, about the three pilots as people, but Stacker didn’t think about it too hard.

"What is the name of your jaeger?" Stacker asked the next time he passed Sten in the Shatterdome, and not out of purely professional interest.

"Nehraa Kadan," Sten responded without hesitation. Stacker wasn’t surprised to hear the alien words; a man who refused to employ a surname for the sake of Western convention certainly would reference his native tongue for something of such great importance.

He didn’t have time to ask what ‘Nehraa Kadan’ meant, and that bothered him for the rest of the day.

It was 2020 by the time Nehraa Kadan saw its first kaiju, and Stacker was popping a pill every few hours, and didn’t like the fear that sometimes flitted through Mako Mori’s not-always-guarded eyes, and he _certainly_ didn’t like the chilly tendrils of matching fear that tickled his spinal cord.  
He watched Sten and Alistair and Anansi touch foreheads as they embraced, the two bigger men bending to the smaller one, who smiled brilliantly at them when they straightened again. Later, he watched Sten put his hand between Alistair’s shoulder blades as they left the jaeger behind, the robot bloodied with its first victory. He watched Anansi lean against them, unselfconscious, and watched Sten’s single-minded focus as he briefly examined the smaller man, their foreheads touching when he was done, their breaths mingling, their eyes closed.

When he realised he was watching, he abruptly turned and found something of vague importance with which to occupy himself. He didn’t think about how his fingers kept rubbing his forehead as he worked.

—

The day he suited up for the last time, Sten caught Stacker’s eye before the Marshall entered the control room.

"We would call you Basalit-an," he said in his slow, rumbling voice, apropos of nothing. He seemed to know something, something that furrowed his brow and tightened his jaw. In the gloves, his hands clenched and unclenched.

Stacker didn’t know what to make of the pilot’s words, or the unguarded look in his eyes.

"But I would call you Arishok," he finished, and his gaze flickered, and he turned his head towards where Anansi and Alistair waited.

"Go, and lay that kaiju low. Anaan esaam Qun," Stacker responded, and Sten looked back at him, surprise and something less quantifiable flaring in his eyes. Stacker inclined his head and went into the control room, a little more quickly than he would have liked, but his brain suddenly felt like an overripe melon, and he didn’t trust himself to speak further.

—

The neural bond had been severed. The jaeger was split open, Kaiju Blue gleaming wetly all over its innards. The thing that had been squeezing Sten’s heart was coming to pass.

_Maraas shokra._

But no— Alistair was shouting, Anansi was clinging to the jaeger’s arm, the jaeger was listing sideways, falling into the ocean, but they were all still alive, and perhaps if he could just get free—

"Nehraa Kadan! Come in!" the radio blared, jarring but welcome, a tether to the land they'd left behind, the land they'd sworn to defend.

"We are falling," Sten responded, glumly, seawater washing over him in a bone-chilling rush.

"Marshall Pentecost?" he requested suddenly, hoping against hope. He did not wait for an answer, affirmative or not.  
"Panahedan, kadan."

Under the water, deep in the sea, still bound to Nehraa Kadan, Sten's lungs filled with water and Kaiju Blue. He never knew which one killed him.

—

"I couldn’t make it out, something like… ponna-henna, and then I don’t know if he was trying to say ‘Nehraa Kadan’ or what, but…"

Stacker raised a quieting hand, and was infinitely grateful that it did not tremble.

"Never mind that. Thank you, Tendo. You may go."

In the dim quiet of his office, feeling the infirmity in his body and the sickness in his battered heart, Stacker touched the back of his hand to his forehead and closed his eyes, pretending.


End file.
